


Voyuer

by NothingButTeeth



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Face-Fucking, M/M, One Shot, Shameless Smut, Sub Cullen Rutherford, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 12:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19006015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NothingButTeeth/pseuds/NothingButTeeth
Summary: Cullen is having a tough time, but luckily for Cullen, The Iron Bull knows exactly what he needs - even if Cullen "Chantry Boy" Rutherford is too wound up to ask for help.





	Voyuer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hostile17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hostile17/gifts).



  Inquisitor Adaar and The Iron Bull had a mutually beneficial arrangement that suited them beautifully. Adaar wasn’t raised under the Qun, but Bull was not the first he had met who was - he _was_ the first one he had slept with, though. For sanity’s sake he kept his sessions with Bull private - although he was pretty certain the Chargers knew, not that he faulted Bull for it. He suspected that Sera and Cole knew as well, but that didn’t trouble him any - he just didn’t want to explain the arrangement to the likes of Cassandra, Vivienne, Solas, or Cullen. He appreciated them all dearly, but he had enough on his plate as it  was, and they were prone to overthinking. Bull made that plate disappear, if only for a short while.

 Bull had made the move first, although it was less of a “move” and more of a matter-of-fact statement. When Adaar went to his chambers for the night following a particularly stressing day, still stinking of blood and grime, there was Bull, sitting on his bed, having caught hints he wasn’t even aware of sending.

Bull was sitting on his bed, waiting for him that night.

"Yes, Bull? What is it?"

  "I've got your hints. You want to ride the Bull."

    "Shall we do this now, then?"

That night was the first of many. He hadn’t known he was hungry until someone offered him a bite.

 There was never any hint of romance - it was businesslike, but with far less formal attire. Adaar had no interest in being romantically involved with anyone until all of this Corypheus shit was dealt with - but that didn't mean that he didn't need some maintenance from time to time. Unfortunately, the Inquisition and the Chantry were intrinsically linked… and the Chantry would be livid if the Herald of Andraste allowed (and personally frequented) a brothel in Skyhold. Honestly, the Chantry was pissed off enough about the fact that he was Tal-Vashoth. Being the Inquisitor gave him little personal freedom or flexibility. Being a faithless Inquisitor was utterly suffocating.   Enter: The Iron Bull.

* * *

  Commander Cullen Rutherford didn’t like spending too much time in the tavern - it was a space for the men to relax, unwind, and run their mouths free of fear of their superiors. A place to blow off steam. Problem was, Cullen didn’t really have anywhere to blow off _his_ steam. He had made the mistake once of drinking in the tavern, and had wound up thoroughly embarrassing himself in front of The Iron Bull and his Chargers - and many of his own men, to boot.

 Bull was such a strange man. Cullen didn’t socialize much with the other members of the Inquisition aside from Cassandra and Inquisitor Adaar himself, but both of those were still more professional in nature, no matter how friendly of terms they were on. His only real confidant was Dorian Pavus, but getting wine drunk with Dorian was a different kind of occasion.  He was fascinated by the culture of the Qun, sensing more of an appeal to it than he let on. He would never actually want to submit to it, of course, but idea of having all the weight of decision making wash off of your shoulders… Well, it was a desire Cullen could understand quite intimately. The concept wasn’t too far off from Templar training, albeit far stricter.  He spoke to Bull about it that night, and Bull described it with the gruff, bored tone of someone who had had to explain it many, many times.

“Do you not marry?” Cullen asked him.  

  “No. We love our friends just as much as you do, but we don’t have sex with them.”

    “Qunari don’t have sex?”

       “Ha! No, we _definitely_ have sex. It’s just not a big deal like it is here. There’s tamassarran’s for that sort of thing - they’ll pop your cork whenever you need it. It’s like going to a healer. Sometimes it’s this long involved thing, it takes all day and leaves you walking funny… other times, you’re in and out in five minutes.” Bull clicked his tongue  and smirked at Cullen, eyeing him in such a manner that made Cullen _desperately_ uncomfortable. “Why, Commander? Your bottle need uncorking?”

“Uh, no,” Cullen defended himself quite lamely, a rush of heat spreading up his neck. “I, er. Sorry I asked.”

 Bull laughed, broad body swaying on a stool Cullen was positive was not built for someone of his size. “Ah, come back to me if you change your mind. Long drawn out things are kinda _my_ thing.” _Maker’s mercy,_ Cullen did not come here to get _that_ visual.

 Cullen had managed quite expertly to avoid him since that exchange… and everyone else, for that matter. Coming off of lyrium had been hell. Fevers, nightmares, hallucinations - he re-lived his time in the Circle in the dark of his every evening. He thought for a while there it may kill him, and the thought was comforting - not, of course, that he told Cassandra that. He grit his teeth and bore it knowing the only two outcomes were death or victory, and there was a strength in that that kept him from relapsing. Truth be told, either would have been satisfactory.

 It did not kill him. He came through the other side free of addiction, mind unaddled by lyrium. He had expected to feel different. Freer. Instead, he felt the loss of it constantly, even though it no longer physically had a hold on him. It felt as though a part of him had been amputated, and every time his mind went to summon the phantom limb he was reminded of the loss.

 To clear his mind Cullen took to walking along the battlements at odd hours, long after Skyhold went to sleep. The cold air was sharp in his chest, but the snow made everything around him soft and silent. From the battlements he could see everything inside - and outside - Skyhold’s walls. It soothed him to be able to keep watch, even if his sleep suffered for it. He knew they had scouts out there, but the cold knot in his stomach wouldn't relax until he saw it with his own eyes.

 Tonight, his eyes got more than they bargained for. Rutherford’s gaze was drawn to the large balcony directly outside the Inquisitor’s bedchamber. The doors were wide open, but at this hour Cullen was the only one both awake and high enough up to notice. A few candles were lit for light, but that's not what drew Cullen’s focus - two large bodies flickered in and out of view with the wind’s sway and the candlelight’s whim, squaring off against one another.

 The Iron Bull and Inquisitor Adaar were beating the _shit_ out of each other. Alarmed, Cullen drew closer, only to realize… this looked like an entirely planned affair. The two massive men were naked save for their undergarments, wrestling for dominance - but the game was clearly rigged. Adaar looked only too pleased to “lose", goading Bull just enough to keep him angry, but not enough to actually risk overpowering him. He was providing the resistance for Bull to push back against.   Gigantic, half naked bodies slammed against and grappled with one another, horns clacking as they smacked together.

 Adaar landed a few solid throws, but Bull only laughed as the sound of fist meeting flesh called out to Cullen, the dull thud of force hitting unyielding flesh beckoning him to abandon all etiquette.  He couldn't make out most of what was said, but based off of the tone alone it seemed like the two were having a grand time insulting each other - filthily, no doubt. Bull flipped the man like he was _nothing_ , teeth grinning in the night, pinning him down to his bed with an ease that spoke of frequent practice. An _oomph_ let out, Adaar’s breath likely knocked right out of his chest by the force of Bull’s attack - and Adaar was not a weak-chested man.

 Bull tied the Inquisitor’s legs to the bedposts, but left his arms free to claw whatever they could reach, muscular arms taut with the promise of a challenge. He was bound face-down into the mattress, body twisting in outrage at his manufactured indignity.  A thin, distinct whistle pierced the air as Bull wielded some sort of flog, whipping him down in large, blindingly hard arcs. It looked to be made of some sort of thick, woven leather, but the distance made anything else indiscernible. The Inquisitor thrashed, hurling something - a book? A small box? Something from his night table - at Bull’s face as he swore. He was met with a sterner, sharper smack from the flog and a laugh from Bul, whose posture was every inch that of a predator, cornering with and playing with it’s prey - letting it struggle, all the while confident in his own dominance.  

 It startled him to realize that what upset him most wasn’t _Bull’s_ violence: it was the Inquisitor’s. Cullen watched, frozen. Yearning, suddenly, to be _good_ . Pliable, in contrast to Adaar’s brutal display. The thought bubbled up from nowhere but he couldn't shake it - Maker, he wanted to _please_ him.

 Cullen didn't realize his own _blindingly hard_ predicament until he whimpered involuntarily, startling himself into being self conscious. Casting a glance around to reassure himself he wasn't about to get caught, he inched closer for a better angle despite his better judgement.  Bright red streaks decorated his Inquisitor’s back, thighs, ass, and groin, now freed from its undergarments. Cullen slid his hand quietly under the waistband of his trousers, biting back a groan as he rubbed against his hand. Eyes fixated on the scene before him, he stroked the tip of his cock with as little movement as possible, trying to avoid drawing attention to himself in such a compromising position.

 His breath clouded the air as he watched the pair, sweat and fear and blood in the air. Bull grasped the Inquisitor about the neck, saying something Cullen couldn’t make out, and for a moment he feared they’d turn ‘round and look up and to the side, but they never did. One more stinging whip, arc so high and harsh that the candle was blown out by air’s movement, sliced towards the Inquisitor’s face - but the light was out, and Cullen’s show was abruptly cancelled. Cullen remained there for a few moments weighed down by the shame and thrill of it all, throb insistant in his hand and breath fogging heavily in the air.  

* * *

 

 Cullen wasn’t exactly certain what led to Dorian Pavus adopting him, but despite his initial reluctance, he found himself grateful for the companionship. His was the only company that didn’t carry with it a constant reminder of his burdens.  There was a table that they met every few days with a chess board set up, and honestly, it was one of the few bright spots in his schedule.

Today, however, he was… distracted. Anxious.

 “Didn’t sleep so well, I take it? Did Sera slip a pebble under your mattress?” Dorian teased him lightheartedly, finely groomed mustache twitching as he spoke.

   “As if I don’t have enough to worry about?” Cullen replied defensively.

     “The wind was singing last night, lights in a tower promising that relief is within reach, that submission can bring freedom, singing so loud he can’t  rest. They would’ve helped you rest.” _Cole._ Cullen rose from his chair angrily, turning to face a ghost who had already moved on.

Dorian moved a piece delicately, lips twitching with mirth. “ _Ah._ Worries abound, I see.”

 “We’ll finish the game later,” Cullen growled, marching towards the tavern to confront Cole. He was going to be damned if he was going to allow another demon to meddle around in his head, even if it was a “helpful” demon - a concept he still wasn’t entirely sold on.

 He realized his mistake as soon as he threw open the door. “‘Bout time,” Bull remarked from across the room. “I - um, what?” Cullen stammered as Bull rose from his chair and threw a hand on his shoulder, guiding him to the side.

 “So, finally got over yourself, huh? I’m pretty surprised, and that doesn’t happen often. I really thought you were just gonna marinate in all that for at least a few more days. Krem’s gonna _love this._ ” Krem was, of course, standing on a chair and had been unabashedly watching Cullen since he came in.

  Blood rushed to Cullen’s face. “Got over - _excuse me?_ ” His voice crept a bit higher in alarm than he liked. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, Bull,” Cullen finished strongly. Mercy, the Bull was tall, wasn’t he?

 Bull looked down at Cullen, clearly disappointed. “You know I’m a spy, right? I’d be kind of a shit one if I didn’t know when someone was watching me.”  Cullen froze, acutely aware of the man’s hand still grasping his shoulder. Bull’s voice lowered, “Listen, uh. I thought you’d come to me when you were ready, I wasn’t gonna push you into anything. That’s not how this works. I need to know if _you_ want to do something about this. I can promise you it’s even better when you’re in it than it looks from a distance - and, based off of the fact that you clearly didn’t know about these meetings before, you can tell I’m discreet. _We’re_ discreet, even, if that’s your thing.”

“You - you two aren’t…?”

 “Qun,” Bull replied simply.

 Cullen’s neck was burning. The weight of Bull’s hand on his shoulder distracted him more than it had any right to.  “ _Parshaara_ ,” Bull muttered at Cullen’s useless state. “Here’s what we’re gonna do, chantry boy: I’m going to turn around and leave. Wait a minute, leave using the other exit, and meet me in your chambers if you want me to sort you out. You don’t show, I’ll head back to the Chargers, get some drinks, and find another taker. First call’s gotta be your call; I can’t make _that_ one for you.” Bull slid his hand down Cullen’s back, smacking him on the ass to punctuate the end of his statement. His mouth curled up at the side into a smirk, and true to his word, the Qunari left the tavern.

 He could feel Krem’s eyes on him, but he didn’t have the courage to look him in the eye. Cullen sank into a chair, dazed, buttocks still smarting in a wholly inappropriate manner. Cole’s words rose to his mind again, but instead of sparking fury, they tugged the longing from his chest and brought it to the forefront of his eyes: _Submission can bring freedom. They would’ve helped you rest._ And how good does rest sound? Real rest? His feet found purchase, carrying him to his quarters. Dorian had followed him, Cullen realized on his way out - but Dorian just gave him an encouraging (if shit-eating) grin, and pulled up a chair next to Krem, saying something too quietly for Cullen to hear.

 True to his word, The Iron Bull was in Cullen’s bedchambers, making himself at home.  He had lit a few candles for light, leaving the door ajar in invitation. Cullen’s face and throat flushed once more with heat as he widened the gap, slipping past the door and  shutting it behind him. Bull was leaning against a wall near his bed, head cocked to the side as he silently watched Cullen enter, speaking only when the door was safely shut. “Good. You’re doin’ good. I’m glad you came.” From anyone else, it would have sounded sarcastic, but Bull’s tone was - well, it was a different one than Cullen was accustomed to.A warm, firm tenor that Cullen found himself gravitating to like a moth to flame - there was a overwhelming sense that security lay behind those words, if Cullen could only reach them.

 “I - uh, I am, too.”

  “You don’t have to talk much, here, if you don’t want to. I only need to know two things: what you want, and a watchword. You know what a watchword is, yes?”

   “I do, yes, but..”

 Bull eyed him knowingly as Cullen stammered and trailed off, the corner of his mouth twitching as he spoke again, “The uncomfortable part is almost over, but it is necessary. You don’t want to decide?” Cullen was immediately nodding in relief. “Your watchword, then, will be _Kost_ . Say that at any point, and I’ll halt, we’ll stop, no strings attached. Say it.” Bull commanded, needing to be certain that Cullen understood the terms and could form the word - also, watching the way Cullen snapped to his attention at his words was _delicious_.

“Kost,” Cullen replied instantly.

  “Excellent. Am I correct in assuming that you, likewise, do not want to decide on what you want for the duration of this?”

    “Yes, I… would prefer to defer to you. If that’s alright.”

       “Hold your watchword in your mind, and speak it without hesitation if need be. I’ll do all the rest.” Bull drew closer to Cullen now, and Cullen could not keep his eyes off of him. The Iron Bull never wore shirts, and was wearing only a pair of loose-fitting pants, and his chest was well-muscled and well-scarred, skin gleaming in the soft light.  A hand far bigger than his own tilted his jaw up so that his eyeline met that of his captor, and the contact made a shiver roll through his body. “You’ll not be needing that armor, Rutherford. Take it off.” Bull’s stare was commanding, and his tone left no room for rebellion, not that Cullen would dream of such a thing.

 Cullen kicked off his boots and began shedding his armor, Bull’s fingers adeptly assisting with the buttons as Cullen fumbled with them, and his nerves. Wide, warm palms ran over Cullen’s sides, pausing at his waist and suddenly, firm thumbs gripped into his skin and lifted him up. For a short, electric moment, they were eye to eye, and Cullen saw the switch flip in The Iron Bull - a wicked gleam and a predatory hook to his grin was all it took to dash Cullen’s remaining anxiety. Here, he knew _exactly_ what was expected of him and how to meet those expectations. His legs wrapped around Bull to seek some purchase and steady himself… and press himself more closely to that dramatic waistline of his. Broad shoulders and muscular chest led tantalizingly lower, lower, to places Rutherford hadn’t dared consider before now.

 Goosebumps bloomed over his pale skin, and Bull pulled him closer with a delectably low growl, loose pants doing nothing to hide the rise that was meeting Cullen’s bottom. Warm breath rushed over his neck, and Cullen closed his eyes in preparation for a bite that did not disappoint. The man was so massive that Cullen felt _surrounded_ , hands effortlessly holding him aloft, tongue wide and possessive, marking the spot for his teeth to stake their claim in. A soft gasp escaped him as Bull bit into his neck, sucking genty despite the sharp force of his teeth on his exposed neck, pulse thrumming into his mouth, a power that Bull was captivated by.

 Suddenly, Cullen found himself spinning, Bull turning their bodies and pressing him to the wall with enough force to cause him to cry out - and for Bull to give him another predatory grin. One hand released him, while the other held firm, aided both by the wall and Cullen’s own  eager grip around his middle, and slid into his pocket. A small glass vial was procured, and with a slight grunt, the lid popped off and clattered to the floor. A faintly aromatic smell followed, but the true purpose behind it was swiftly realized: Bull managed to slide his pants off with the crook of a thumb, and suddenly that protective layer of fabric was no longer separating the two bodies. Cullen couldn’t _see_ his cock at his current angle, but he could absolutely feel it, and his chest fluttered in anticipation and a twinge of trepidation. Bull was a massive man, and, well, he was _massive_. Cullen was not, by human means, of small stature, but in comparison to The Iron Bull?

 Bull must have spotted the flash of panic on his face, and a husky voice eased him back. “ _Taashath_ . You’re gonna do fine. Worry has no place here.” So he spoke, so it was; the worry rolled off of Cullen’s mind. Instead, he relaxed against the tip of Bull, biting his lip with anticipation. The firm, solid pressure was unyielding as Bull set the vial on a nearby end table, just a few drops on his calloused hands. His fingertips, now slightly slick, rubbed along Cullen’s cock, swirling lazily over his head as though he intended to make this an all-day affair, causing Cullen to wonder how long, exactly, he would be capable of holding him upright. He was at The Iron Bull’s mercy, although he absolutely _did not_ want the Bull to be merciful.

 He held Cullen at this impossibly vulnerable position until he was keening with need, throbbing and frustrated from repeated denials of either release or penetration. Each attempt to grind harder against Bull was met with more restrictive force, and Cullen was forced to stay there, feeling the tension rise, rise, rise… and then, right at the cusp, Bull would deny him.  He was kept teetered on the ledge, and soon grew so frantic for _more_ that his fingers rose to part his own lips, eyes fluttering shut as he sucked on them, trembling against every part of Bull that was torturing him. He was, after Bull’s expert edging, able to think of nothing but how his whole body ached for this. He felt so empty he was worried he may actually cry.

 With a growl, Bull shifted them once more, eyes fixated on Cullen’s mouth hungrily as he threw the man to the bed, where Cullen landed breathlessly. He would have no chance to catch his breath, however - Bull made it to him in one long stride, and Cullen could not help but shiver (subtly, he hoped?) at the sight of the man before him, bare and huge and _so fucking hard_ , hard muscles interrupted by small ropes of scar tissue all over his body, but not in way that made him _less_ appealing. Quite the opposite. It was clear that no measure of protest or attack would be enough to slow him down, and the thrill of knowing that while he _did_ have a word to break this scene, he had no other means to halt this, that he was utterly at Bull’s mercy was enough to get him high from it. He _felt_ a high, certainly. Different from lyrium, but no less intoxicating.

 Thick fingers grabbed the messy, short curls that crowned Cullen’s head with a soft grunt, pulling him to the edge of the bed and towards his erection - Bull was so tall that the height was nearly perfect. A flutter of lashes and Cullen looked up at Bull, mouth slightly open, voice coming out as a hoarse plea, “Please. _Please_ , can I?” Bull’s grip tightened, yanking his head down onto his cock with a pleased grunt. Cullen moaned happily, sucking and lavishing the man with his tongue, head beginning to feel floaty as Bull tightened his grip on his hair, pushing in and out of his mouth at his own rhythm. It was all Cullen could do to keep his mouth open, taking all that Bull gave. He hummed slightly as Bull slid his cock down his throat, the vibration causing Bull’s cock to jerk in response. His jaw began to ache, chin and neck quickly wet with his own sloppy bliss, eyes closed a Bull thrusted himself wherever he damn well pleased.

Throat, mouth, and jaw thoroughly abused, Cullen felt as though he was in paradise. As Bull eventually left his mouth, he sighed happily, heavy lids slowly lifting to look up at him, but Bull was moving, already repositioning Cullen again, leaning down and just grabbing his hips and moving his body _for_ him - which was good, because Cullen was floating somewhere beyond the sky now, only too happy to be free. Cullen’s ass was at the end of the bed now, fingers slowly, dreamily, rubbing his sore lips while Bull put him where he was wanted. Calloused, but slick with more of the same silky lubricant from earlier, fingers stretched him open. Cullen’s heart jumped to his throat, whimpering shamelessly as Bull spread him, first with one, then two, then three fingers. He twisted in, out, slowly at first but then curving upwards, thrumming his fingertips with precision as he grew rougher.

 Cullen arched his back, moving his hips desperately to get more of it, fingers clutching the sheets, eyes glazed with pleasure. Bull’s gigantic hands moved to his thighs, gripping him so hard he knew his skin would be ten shades of purple in the morning, ass gaping in his absence - but that absence was mere seconds. The head pressed against him again - but this time it was pushing forward at a slow but impossible to escape pace. It felt _so fucking good_ that if his knees could give out, they would’ve. As it were, he balled the sheets in his fists and ground his hips down against him, rocking slightly as he was slowly, slowly filled to the brim.

 His thighs clenched, but were kept open by Bull’s hands, which yanked him further down upon his cock, which held position for a few seconds deeper within him than Cullen thought was _even possible_ . As he felt Bull throbbing within him, he felt himself pulsating around him. It was so, so, _so good_ he didn’t even notice that he’d been murmuring words to that effect the entire time. He groaned in protest as Bull began to slide out of him, thrusting just barely into him. He gripped his thighs harder, thrusting more and more quickly now, but it wasn’t until Cullen thought he might scream that Bull finally rammed himself as deeply as he could, and then again, and again - and Cullen _did_ scream. His body thrashed without him, but Bull held him down and in place, relentlessly fucking him blind. Cullen made the most deliciously unholy sounds as Bull took full advantage, slamming into him again and again until he saw stars, inclining his hips and - and oh, Bull was thrusting _just right_ and he stopped for nothing - not even when Cullen came, shivering in ecstasy, all over his own chest. It felt like he was throbbing for entire minutes, gasping and then crying out as Bull continued fucking him despite how shatteringly sensitive it all felt now. A hand moved from his thigh to his throat, constricting the blood vessels in his neck while he shook, and Cullen’s vision grew a little black around the edges.

 Bull grew frenzied, moaning the deepest, most heavenly moans to ever be released. He grew slower, but only slightly, pulling out further and further, slower and slower,  only to press in with more urgency. Cullen found himself begging without even meaning to aloud, not that Bull needed to urging - but he was so pretty when he was so thoroughly ruined, he was absolutely not going to discourage it. He thrusted within him, and then his massive body began to tremble and shake as he stayed there, growling in pleasure as he came deep within Cullen, who clenched as hard as he could ‘round his cock, biting down hard on his own lip as he felt waves rush from Bull into him. Their breaths grew harried and heavy, and then slowed together. Bull thrusted a few more final times, fucking his deliberately cum into Cullen, before leaving him empty, but satisfied.

 Bull must’ve used a rag or something to clean himself off a bit, and Cullen a little as well, because when Cullen finally felt himself return to the planet, he was marginally less messy. Bull lay near him, casually touching him and watching while he dozed and floated. He croaked, throat beyond wrecked, “That was…” And then smiled, sighing contentedly. Bull offered him a gentle, crooked grin. “You did good. You did _real_ good.” Cullen had never felt so blessedly blissed out. He must’ve looked it, because Bull laughed cheerily at his expression.

“Yeah, you fucking needed that.”


End file.
